by Diana Kirk
"Alex, hush." He ran his hand along her arm. "Merikare is, no doubt, either dead or in the dungeons."
"Yeah, so?"
"And we both saw what happened to Tem. Mentuhotep is left with only Kensu to do his bidding and then there is the matter of Nafari."
"She'll be under the protection of the pharaoh. He has other physicians. Why do you have to go?" She gazed into the endless depths of his eyes. "It's not that damn honor thing again is it?"
"Alex." His voice grew cold. "You don't understand."
She stood, crossed over to the doorway and pulled the flaps tight. "I only understand one thing." She spun around. "We're meant to be together and if you're going back, so am I."
Tarik leaned up on one elbow. "Do you mean this?"
"Just try me." She strode to Tarik's cot and wrapped her arms around him. His familiar scent invaded her senses. "We were meant to be together. Always. Forever." She placed soft kisses along his temple. "And nothing will ever change that."
Her father would understand. All her life, he'd only wanted the best for her. And this was best.
A slow rumble shook the ground. "Oh, God, another earthquake."
The tremors continued for a few moments more, followed by unearthly stillness. A strange foreboding crept along her spine and she shivered. Alex hurried through the door-flaps bumping straight into Abi-del, his eyes wide with terror.
"Alex, your father. He's gone!"
Epilogue
TWIN GRANITE columns guarded the gateway to the Cairo Museum, housing the relics of an ancient civilization, a lost world, a culture of unheralded sophistication and knowledge. These treasures had been hidden from modern man until only a few hundred years ago. Alex gazed up at Tarik, lingering at the doorway as if afraid to confront his past. He had welcomed each new discovery as the physician he was, relishing in modern technology and showing a particular affinity for computers. However, Western clothing had smothered him until he finally settled for the freedom of middle-eastern dress and in his galabiya, he was every bit the ancient Egyptian and modern man in one.
"Come on, love, this way," Alex pointed toward the far end of room. "He's over there."
Alex slid her hand in Tarik's and led him slowly along the marbled floor, their footsteps echoing around the room. Everywhere she turned were memories of the past, their shared past, and a past still living for her father. In her hand she clutched his letter, read and reread many times over the last six months. A letter of dreams, desires, and determination. Of her father's wish to spend the rest of his days with Mentuhotep and those who served him. And of her father's promise to leave her a sign that everything was all right.
As they approached the sarcophagus, a mixture of anticipation and dread flowed through her veins. What if they found nothing? What if the mummy wasn't Mentuhotep, but her father, after all?
Her eyes filled with tears that threatened to blur her vision. Batting them away, Alex gazed into the glass. Preserved for all eternity, the mighty pharaoh rested in his kingly robes. Tarik bowed his head.
There, hidden deep within Mentuhotep's arms was the tip of something rolled tightly--an ancient papyrus? Alex leaned down, closer, her nose pressing against the glass. Weathered and worn, it was her scroll! Its edge bore a mark. Not hieroglyphics, English, the beginning of a name. EZ. Her father's? It had to be. Yes, this was his sign. He'd found peace and honor among her husband's people.
Her eyes widened and a stream of silent tears traveled down her cheeks. Not tears of pain, but of joy.
Tarik reached out and pulled her to him, so tight the beating of her heart mingled with his. The sight of his old friend, dead now for centuries, brought a stab of bittersweet regret. Alex was his life now, his hope, and his future. Even this strange and fascinating world would be paradise because they were together.
Forever. Always.
Tarik rested his chin against her cheek, breathing in the scent of her, giving silent thanks to the gods who brought them together through the magic of an ancient scroll, the wonder of an ageless love, and the mystic words that touched the soul of time: the Song of Isis.
~*~
Diana Kirk
An electronic pioneer, Diana Kirk is no stranger to more traditional forms of writing. She is a playwright, novelist, and medical writer. The 1992 President of the Nebraska Writers Guild, Kirk is currently a member of the Romance Writers of America, Sisters-in-Crime, Romance Authors of the Heartland, and the Western Writers of America. Her historical play, Prairie and Parlor: The Creighton Story, was produced at an Omaha theater to rave reviews. She was also on the Board of Directors of the historic First Nebraska Literature Festival in 1991 focusing the spotlight on Nebraska writers.
Kirk, who also writes under the name of Diana Hart,teaches the prestigious Breaking Into Print course at Long Ridge Writers Group www.longridgewritersgroup.com. A long-time aficionado of Ancient Egypt, SONG OF ISIS is her seventh novel.
Visit Diana's website at: http://www.eclectics.com/dianakirk/
Don't miss these other Hard Shell titles by Diana Kirk:
A Caduceus is for Killing (Medical Thriller)
Murder in Musicland (Mystery)
The Love Bug (in Millennium Magic Anthology)
Don't Close Your Eyes (Horror Collection) Rachel Serves a Stew (Children's)
Also writing as part of the team Diana Hart:
Unfriendly Persuasion – Book 1: Wild Wyoming Series
Bad Medicine – Book 2: Wild Wyoming Series
Wyoming Wilde – Book 3: Wild Wyoming Series
Partners in Crime – Book 4: Wild Wyoming Series
Available from your favorite bookseller or directly from:
Hard Shell Word Factory
PO Box 161
Amherst Jct. WI 54407
Fax: 715-824-3875
Email: [email protected]
http://www.hardshell.com
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Diana Kirk
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